One Breath
by Zanate56
Summary: 'The Revenant' (2016) film. Glass knows that he can't protect his son forever. But that doesn't mean he won't fight with everything he has to keep Hawk with him. Set about three years before the film's events.


_A/N: I saw 'The Revenant' yesterday and the relationship between Glass and his son was, for me, the most beautiful aspect of the film. This fic doesn't do the film anywhere near the justice it deserves but I hope I've captured just a little bit of the film's atmosphere as well the beautiful bond between a father and his son._

* * *

 **One Breath**

 _One breath,_ Glass thought, his face hardened with fierce determination despite the shaking in his hands as he pulled his son free of the river and onto the bank. The boy lay limp on the ground despite his father's rough handling, his face horribly pale against the inky darkness of his hair.

He had been skinning a hide when one of the young boys staying at the fort had rushed up, crying that another boy had been swept down river. Among the men's frantic questioning Captain Henry had managed to get the story out of the hysterical child. The boy had been playing near the embankment, which was gorged and rushing with newly melted spring snow. The boy had wondered too far and had fallen into the river and would have been rushed downstream had not an older boy jumped in after him and pulled him to shore before being swept away by the river.

"Who was the other boy, son?" said Henry.

"I-I think it w-was H-Hawk, sir…"

As soon as Glass had heard his son's name he had leapt to his feet, rushing towards the river. He had skidded to a stop, unable to breathe for a moment when he caught sight of his son's limp body caught amongst a rocky outcropping. But a second later Glass' instincts had him moving and wading into the water, pulling his son free.

Now Hawk lay limp on the ground, a trickle of blood slowly sliding down his cheek from a gash in his temple. Dimly Glass was aware of the shouts of other men behind him but Glass' world had faded to his son's unmoving chest.

 _One breath, just one breath, breathe, breathe breathe!_ Glass screamed in his mind as he rolled Hawk over and pounded hard on the boy's back.

"Glass, stop-" someone tried to grab his arm but Glass yanked it bank and continued his relentless pounding.

"You're going to hurt him worse-" another hand tried to pull him away but was also shook off.

"For the love of God, man, he's gone!" shouted another soldier.

Before Glass could snarl out a denial Hawk suddenly jerked and at the same time a spurt of water erupted from the boy's mouth. Coughing and wheezing, the boy groaned as he coughed up more water. When he was finally done Hawk went limp in his father's arms. He opened glazed eyes and saw his father's blue eyes boring into his own.

"Pa," the boy croaked.

It took all of Glass' control to not gather his son up in his arms and hold him close, as he had done in the weeks following his mother's death. Shaking with relief, Glass felt the familiar fear of loss creep up on him and he stamped it down hard. Hawk could have been killed and he saw the boy wince when he saw Glass' face harden.

"Is he alright?" Henry asked, kneeling down next to Glass. The captain carefully brushed Hawk's hair away from his temple to better examine the cut. Hawk flinched but didn't make a sound and Glass felt pride rush through his veins.

"He'll be fine," said Glass curtly, standing and pulling his son roughly to his feet. The boy swayed and gritted his teeth when he felt his head pound.

Glass saw the flash of pain but would not comfort his son, at least not in the presence of the other men. To protect his son he had to make him strong – softness and gentleness had no place in this land. But even as Glass repeated the familiar argument in his head he could not stop his hand from resting on his son's back, this time with a gentleness that Hawk immediately recognised.

He didn't return his son's knowing look, instead keeping his eyes straight ahead and he all but marched back to the fort, pulling his son behind him. When they reached the small cabin that had been given to them Hawk pushed his son roughly towards the fire.

"Get out of those wet clothes. The doctor will be in to look at you."

"Pa…"

"Do as I say." Glass cut the boy off before turning and leaving, shutting the door firmly behind him.

As he stomped off he passed the fort's doctor, a grave but skilled man that Glass had come to respect. The older man gave Glass a single nod and Glass jerked his head back towards the cabin, giving his silent permission for the man to see to his son.

Propelled by his still turbulent emotions, Glass walked outside of the fort and chose a secluded spot that gave him a clear vantage point of any approaching danger. He sat down and proceeded to clean his rifle, a task that always calmed him when his nerves were frayed. It took longer than usual to clean the weapon as his hands wouldn't stop shaking for some time.

"Glass," a voice called. He looked up to see Captain Henry walking towards him.

"I've been looking for you," said the younger man as Glass stood to greet him. "The doctor finished examining Hawk. He'll be fine but should stay off of his feet for a few days until his head's better."

Glass nodded and then had to rest his rifle against the ground as he suddenly sagged. It was only a slight bend of the knees but it wouldn't do for the captain to think Glass weak and so he straightened almost immediately.

Henry clasped Glass on the shoulder and gave him a slight shake. "Go back to your son. I can make it an order if I have to," the younger man added with a wry smile.

Glass didn't smile back but nodded and gathered up his gear before turning to head down the path that led back to the fort. The daylight was fading by the time Glass reached his cabin. He paused for a moment to look up at the sky, where stars already stood clearly against the quickly darkening sky. It was going to be a beautiful night, he thought. But also a cold one – the kind of cold that is so still and quiet that it can sneak up on a man and kill him in his sleep.

That thought made him shiver and quickly step into the cabin, closing and locking the door firmly behind him. It was dark inside and it took him a moment for his eyes to adjust.

Hawk's clothes were hung near the dying fire. The boy was curled up on the bed facing the wall, apparently asleep. Glass could tell by the tense line of the boy's back, however, that Hawk was still awake. Glass sat down on a chair and pulled off his boots and then peeled off his own damp coat and shirt. He draped the garments over the chair to dry and then knelt down to put more wood in the stove. Once he was satisfied that it would burn through the night Glass finally turned his attention to his son, who had yet to speak to him.

He sighed heavily. In the past few years his son had smiled less and grown more withdrawn as he grew out of his childish naivety. "Half-breed" was now a word that Hawk knew all too well even though he was only thirteen.

" _Be invisible,"_ he constantly told his son. But Glass had never meant for Hawk to become invisible to _him,_ not to his own flesh and blood.

Glass slid into the narrow bed next to his son, who was still stubbornly silent. He closed his eyes but the memory of his son's pale, bloodied face jumped before his closed eyes and he opened them again.

A soft noise made Glass look over at Hawk, who was shivering underneath the thin blankets. Glass rolled over and pulled his son into his arms. Hawk made a soft noise of protest, resisting for only a moment before turning around. He wrapped his arms around his father's torso and pressed his cold face against Glass' throat, closing his eyes when he felt the familiar, comforting brush of beard against his own smooth skin.

" _You were right to help,"_ Glass said after he felt Hawk's shivering lessen. It was second nature for them to speak in Pawnee when they were alone. It was like a protection of sorts, creating the sense of safety in a world filled with danger and uncertainty.

 _"But next time, go get help. You're no use to anyone dead, you understand_?" Glass gave his son a gentle shake for emphasis.

 _"Yes, Pa,"_ said the boy.

Glass ran his fingers through his son's dark hair, tracing the bandage that ran along Hawk's temple. Not for the first time his fingers drifted to the ugly scarring that ran along the left side of his son's face.

" _I heard your voice,"_ said Hawk after a while.

Glass raised his head to look at his son in puzzlement, his hand lingering on Hawk's scarred cheek.

" _When I felt the cold trying to take me, I heard your voice,"_ said Hawk. _"You told me to fight, that I just had to take one breath. I listened because I knew you would find me."_

This time it wasn't just his hands that were shaking. Trembling with the pain of memories that wouldn't die, as well as the realisation that he could have lost his son, Glass pulled Hawk tighter against him. This time the boy went willingly, wrapping his arms around his father's neck.

"Don't you frighten me like that again, you hear me?" Glass rasped, this time in English. Hawk nodded and squeezed his father in reassurance.

Glass knew it was only a matter of time before they were separated forever. He felt as though he was constantly rushing ahead of some nameless threat, pulling his son with him as he tried to outrun the spectre that had claimed his wife. The life that they led was a hard one – some would call it a miracle that Glass had lived as long as he had, and that Hawk had reached the age he was now.

" _It will be alright, Pa,"_ said Hawk, his voice growing heavy with sleep. Glass closed his eyes as he felt his son comb his fingers through his hair, repeating the comforting gesture that his father had so often done to him.

" _I am here,"_ Hawk added softly.

Glass nodded but didn't let go of his son even after the boy had fallen asleep and was safe and warm in his father's arms. Glass didn't think he could ever let him go.


End file.
